Trial and Error.. and more Error
by swissjak
Summary: and the story continues... I've been kinda sidetracked but I'll write more as the time comes :) R
1. Collection 1: And so it beginns

Trial and Error…and more Error  
  
Disclaimer: this fic is based on materials created and owned by Games Workshop. Let it be said that I am not stealing anything, I am merely borrowing it and will return everything when I am done.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
1  
  
"Ok, so let me get this straight." Bryan yelled over the background noise of laser bolts and explosions. "A bunch of guys decided to keep their tax money from the emperor and used it to build a chapel dedicated to his religious cult instead."  
  
"Yep." His friend and squad mate David replied.  
  
"And this pissed someone off mighty fierce, fierce enough to send us here."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"And now we're here shooting up a bunch of loyal, defenseless monks and to collect on their dues."  
  
"That pretty much sums it up."  
  
"Ok, just making sure I got it straight." Bryan said, then stood up at the window they were crouched next to and fired another couple bursts from his lasgun at the robed figures, then knelt back down again.  
  
"So wait a sec." He said to David. "Isn't what we're doing sacrilegious?"  
  
"Yes and no."  
  
"Really?" Bryan replied in a flat tone  
  
"Really. The High Lords of Terra run the church and the system of government. So, if we are told by the government to attack the church, which is the government, then that's nothing more than a self inflicted wound, like a priest shooting himself in the foot. But if you look at it from that screaming legless guy's perspective, at your 3 o'clock, 50 yards out, I'd say he would think it's sacrilegious."  
  
"So are we gonna be damned for this?"  
  
David stood up next to the window, leveled his lasgun and fired one shot, stopping the screaming. He knelt back down and said: "To bad for the legless guy he isn't the one in charge here."  
  
They both smiled like idiots for a second.  
  
Welcome to the twisted Universe of Warhammer 40K, I'll be your host: Swissjak. As you can see, nothing on the battlefield makes any sense what so ever. We will follow the 3 amusing Imperial soldiers: Bryan V., David B. and Rob W. Lets have a closer look at them shall we?  
  
Bryan comes to the guard kicking and screaming… until rather violently injected sedatives were used… a lot. He comes from a crappy little backwater planet in the middle of ass nowhere…  
  
David was 'volunteered' for service a while back too. Unlike his current friend Bryan, he knew when to use S.T.F.U. rule "Shut The Fuck Up" (Frell is the word David would use). The Imperial system is a joke to him, and that helps him get through all the BS missions he is sent on.  
  
Rob is more of the quiet sort. While his aim is far from the mark, he makes up for it in his preachings, which really come in handy when everyone has trouble falling asleep.  
  
All of them are 'participants' in the same unit: the 1st Airborne, with the motto: "Cleanse you planet well or the second time's free".  
  
  
  
Now, on the contrary to the general belief of the population, these men were not murderers. They were merely… messengers. They only brought bad news this time, that's all. After the… delivery… of the message Bryan, David and Rob stood in front of the chapel gates talking.  
  
"May the Emperor smile on your soul and bring thee to everlasting peace." Rob prayed at he folded the white sheet over a nameless monk's face.  
  
"I don't think he'll be doing that any time soon Rob." Bryan said.  
  
Insulted, Rob stood and challengingly asked with his hands on his hips "And why is that?"  
  
"Well, it says very clearly that the Emperor shall condemn he who desecrates his will. And if the Lords or Terra act in the name of the Emperor, then these guys are pretty screwed."  
  
"But the Emperor also forgives he who lays down his living in his name."  
  
David is keen on adding fuel to the fires of conversation. "So, if they cannot get eternal peace for defying Terra, yet cannot be condemned for preaching the Emperor's name… what happens to him? Is there a "gray area" in-between the two?"  
  
Rob stared at David yet in to a blank space, both of which seemed to be occupying the same area.  
  
"So these guys are in the something like an everlasting waiting room, reading stale magazines for the rest of eternity?" Bryan pondered.  
  
"I guess so. Either way, what do we do now?" David said.  
  
"What do you mean, what do we do now? Haven't we killed enough?" Rob exclaimed.  
  
"That's not what I mean." David replied. "We came here to collect the Emperor's tax money, and all we have here is a brick building. Now I don't know what the customs are on your planet, but I don't think the High Lords will accept bricks as currency."  
  
"Granted." Rob concurred, taking another look at the chapel. "So what are we going to do?"  
  
"Simple." Bryan stated, instantly drawing their attention.  
  
"Oh please, do tell." David said with a grin on his face.  
  
"We take it from the governor's piggy-bank."  
  
"…"  
  
*silence*  
  
"Okay." David said.  
  
"Okay?" Rob asked, still startled.  
  
"Yep. Let's do it. I didn't spend all that time traveling through the warp just to stare at an impressive collection of bricks."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
2  
  
They sat in the drop bay of the transport, chutes on, ready to go. 50 piss poor armed soldiers. The cabin was filled with a nice humming noise, the kind that reminded you of your childhood trauma involving a jar of honey and a beehive.  
  
"Funny isn't it." Bryan commented.  
  
"What is?" Rob asked.  
  
"How we basically run this outfit."  
  
David started to chuckle to himself.  
  
"… I still think that getting the LT to drink till he passed out was a bad idea."  
  
David laughs but tries to hold it in with both hands over his mouth.  
  
"What makes things even more interesting," Bryan added. "Is that you, as second in command, Rob, are a complete pussy. Which leaves me and Dave to run the show."  
  
David was now on the floor almost literally laughing his ass off. Rob on the other hand was red enough to win any tomato contest.  
  
"When I'm at the Emperor's side and you're getting whipped by the minions of Horus, I hope I won't be to humble to gloat." Rob said, then turned his attention away from his 2 companions. He found his lasgun next to him (not a single kill to date) and began sanctifying it again. By this time David was back in control of himself, wiping the tears from his eyes.  
  
"And that's another thing, Rob. Before every single mission you praise the gods of Emperor knows what and oil up your gun before every battle." Bryan said, being quite smirk about it too.  
  
"… THAT'S WHAT WE'RE SUPPOSED TO DO!!"  
  
"Well… look at it this way: You oil the gun up, I don't. You have never hit anything, let alone the ground, whereas I sport 58 confirmed kills from 3 major conflicts."  
  
"And you're proud of killing?" Rob exclaimed.  
  
"I'm just saying that I wouldn't be able to hit a white Orc on a black background either if my trigger was lubed like that."  
  
"You're only supposed to anoint the barrel! They only oil the entire weapon in boot camp, and that's only to make you feel stupid."  
  
"Looks like it worked perfectly too." David contributed, sporting a trademark grin on his face.  
  
Complete silence reigned from then until the red light went on, indicating they were over the drop zone. Systematically all 50 paratroopers rose to their feet and lined up in preparation for the jump.  
  
"Here's the plan." David yelled from the front of the line. "We are going to jump from a perfectly good plane in to the middle of the governor's residential block. We are after the big guy himself, please do not shoot him… not matter how much he asks you to after I am done with him. Do NOT shoot him. If anybody feels like shooting at us tonight, feel free to exercise excessive violence." At that the troopers cheered in great joy.  
  
"That was beautiful." Bryan paused to fake a sniff. "Brought a tear to my eye."  
  
"Thank you. It came from the heart." David replied. After that he pulled a lever that was conveniently placed at the end of the aircraft, causing the ramp to lower, exposing them all to the night and the violent rush of air. Bryan looked down, trying to find the lights of the drop zone. "Why do we do this anyway?" He asked no one in particular. The green light flashed bright as David said: "Because it's fun," and pushed Bryan out of the plane.  
  
Bryan embraced the freedom of weightlessness as he plummeted gracefully towards the ground at 100 feet per second. He eventually decided that popping his chute was a good idea. He pulled the ripcord and hung on to the shoulder straps. The chute released and opened just as planed. Nevertheless, the fact that Bryan forgot to secure the harness was a bad thing. This caused the chute to separate itself from him, which left Bryan, still, in the middle of a freefall. "Oh. Shit."  
  
His mind racing at peek speed he desperately tried to think of a way out of his rather large predicament. "… Nope… Nope… That won't work… hmm… maybe…" At that he furiously began to flap his arms, at the lack of a better plan. "Nope." Just as it seemed all was lost he saw one of his soldiers falling down near him. Bryan angled himself so that he might somehow become an aerodynamic freak of nature and bring himself next to other paratrooper. It worked too. He yelled as load as humanly possible, for the sound of the upward rushing wind was quite deafening. "Dave?"  
  
The soldier replied "No sir, Hendrix."  
  
"Good." And with that he took the trooper's nostrils with his middle and index fingers and pulled him down so he was now completely vertical and utterly out of control. Bryan released the harness of the chute and grabbed on to it with both hands, letting the trooper have the right of way on the journey south. "Thank you!" he yelled after him. Bryan looked around just to make sure nobody had seen him then he put on the harness and popped the chute. With the pulling of the rip cord the chute opened majestically and gave the harness a good jolt. A jolt Bryan's "privates" did not need.  
  
"Ah… Ah… Ow… Fall from divinity, chapter 10, verse 7: He who betrays his brother will be made felt the retribution he is deserving… I should have known…"  
  
After the rather awkward jump, Bryan finally reached the ground. After he had disposed of his chute and readied his weapon, he realized then that he had missed the drop zone. Instead of being in the middle of a street block sized villa, he was standing in the middle of some run down suburbs. And what a nasty place it was. Garbage was hanging from every possible place on and off the buildings, old people sleeping in said garbage… really nasty stuff.  
  
"Ohh-kay. All I need to do is to head south and I should eventually meet up with Dave and the others." Bryan was in one of the back alleys. He decided to sneak up to the front and peek around the corner, to get a better understanding of which direction he should proceed in. The main street was just as filth ridden as the alley. And luckily for Bryan not a soul was in sight. In the absence of a better plan, Bryan proceeded down the street, hoping this neighborhood ended soon.  
  
He had only gone a few steps before the eyes began showing up in every day window. They stared at him, they gazed at him, and they pierced his body with invisible bullets it almost seemed. Needless to say, Bryan was quite uncomfortable right then. That was only the good part though; it became worse when thugs began appearing from numerous doorways, armed with everything from knuckle spikes to large knives. Bryan took a quick inventory of his weapon and ammo status. His lasgun was in perfect working order, his real problem was that all his ammo was lost (save the loaded clip), and the trooper whose harness he 'borrowed' had nothing but 2 flamethrower fuel canisters attached to it. "I love these odds," he said quietly to himself. He increased his pace to a "office walk", but just slow enough not to provoke the mob, who now consisted of about 40 volunteers. He looked back again to see where he was going, and praise the emperor he could see the end of this unfriendly neighborhood, where trash met clean concrete: but he still had 200 yards to go; and he knew they wouldn't let him get 50. After another 30 paces Bryan stopped. The mob halted as well, eager to see what the "little soldier boy" was going to do. With a swift motion Bryan spun around, his left arm throwing a fuel canister high into the air above the crowd. He leveled his lasgun and pulled off 2 shots, hitting the canister and igniting the napalm housed inside.  
  
Liquid fire washed down as a merciless blanket of death upon the mob. Their screams of pain they gave, as their skin flowed in molten streams off their body, was comparable only to that of demonic warp beasts. Flamer fuel was nasty stuff. Bryan didn't bother to stick around and watch: he knew very well what their fate was. By the time the first droplet of napalm had hit the mob he was already sprinting in the direction of his salvation. 120. 100. 80. 60 yards. He was almost home free. That is until small arms fire erupted from several apartment buildings. He couldn't afford to get caught in a long term skirmish and added to his pace while zigzagging left and right, trying desperately not to get shot. 40. 20. 10. A mere 10 yards away from the 'boarder' a truck with trailer pulls in to his path, an attempt to cut him off it looks like.  
  
"SHIIIIIIT!" Bryan yelled as he leaned backwards, using his momentum to slide under the truck feet first. When he opened his eyes again it suddenly hit him that he had made it. He was unharmed and out of the most unfriendly part of the galaxy. He jumped up and down cheering in celebration. When he calmed down he swore that he could still hear shooting. He turned around and finally realized that the 18-wheeler was a fuel tanker. And it was being shot.  
  
"Crap." He said in a small squeaky voice right before the tanker exploded and sent him flying.  
  
Meanwhile, miles away, David and his buddies are focused on the task at hand. Now at 300 feet above the ground the men of the 1st airborne were looking down at a very well lit street block sized villa. Thoughts of disgust entered Rob's mind as he realized that the chapel was not the main target of the missing funds. At 200 feet his anger swelled as all the luscious details of the scattered courtyard statues became more visible. At the 100 foot marker Rob was able to identify his 'somewhere in that area' landing zone: In the back courtyard, between the nude dancer statuettes and the hedge. At 50 feet one of the statues seemed to be moving. 30 feet: the statue is actually a guard with a small weapon; probably a chemical powered sub machine gun. 10 feet from the green grass Rob had positive knowledge of where he was landing, and he liked it: somewhere between the C3 and C7 discs of the guard's spinal cord. A pronounced grunt escaped the black dressed thug as he involuntarily occupied the space between the ground and Rob. His back in total agony, his vision blurry, the unfortunate man tried to aim his vision upward, in an attempt to see something other than the cobblestone walkway. A mysterious person blocked his view.  
  
"Be wary." Rob said. "For yee know not when the master cometh… Bitch." With the last word he slammed the butt stock of his lasgun in to the guard's skull, rendering him unconscious.  
  
"Feel better now?" Rob heard David's voice ask. Rob looked behind him to see David and the rest of the 1st Airborne taking up positions to storm the villa.  
  
"Much, thanks for asking."  
  
"Still doesn't count as a kill though."  
  
"And killing him now would be bad sport."  
  
David nodded.  
  
"My friend, the night is still young."  
  
With large grins David and Rob nodded at each other, then continued with the operation.  
  
Counting 10 minutes later, we rejoin the 'mission' in one of the inner hallways of the villa. The walls are painted in a light tan and are richly decorated with objects and paintings made from golds and silvers. Many of them will be quite useful during the next 'financial plan' meeting. Anyway, back to the hallway. They are well lit by side mounted imitation candles (they look like flames but are just illusions of light). Also the numerous laser bursts that fly back and forth provide excellent shadow effects. Pinned down at a "T" intersection of hallway by the hired muscle of the governor, the brave, courageous and above all, angry group of Imperial Guardsmen try to advance. David and Rob were positioned at one corner along with 2 other soldiers, with another 5 on the other corner taking turns shooting down the hallway, trying to rout the resistance.  
  
"We must be getting close to the big cheese." Rob commented to David.  
  
"What makes you think that?" David asked in return.  
  
"Well," Rob began. "We've only advanced 200 meters in the last 10 minutes, there is more return fire than usual, you've used up all your power cells and chose to arm yourself with 2 handfuls of green gelatin that you found in the kitchen."  
  
David looked down at his hands. He did in fact have a blob of the green substance in each palm. "To the plain eye this gooey muck I hold is just plain gelatin." David explained. "But those of higher general knowledge, such as myself, would know that this is no ordinary gelatin. It is ritual gelatin. Ever heard of a thing called a 'tea ceremony'? This stuff is used in the 'gelatin ceremony.' Its volume of mass is thicker and heavier than that of the normal slot we're issued for dessert. Allow me to demonstrate, covering fire if you would."  
  
"Course. Hit it boys!" Rob ordered to his subordinates. As David rounded the corner, sprinting down the hallway, multiple bursts of laser fire opened up and spat death at the makeshift barricade of tables and chairs at the other end of the hall, forcing the defenders to take cover. The men of the 1st Airborne watched with astonished facial expressions as David bounded over the barricade as initiated close combat. Savagely, he assaulted the guards with fists of gelatin. Punching, kicking, backhanding. He danced as dangerous dance of pain amongst the defenders. When the rest of the platoon reached him they found him as the only one standing, with 6 squirming guards laying about him, desperately scratching and pulling at the green substance on their faces.  
  
"This stuff is so thick that only those trained in the way of the ceremony are capable of even chewing it. Unfortunately, suffocation due to lack of oxygen is the mainstream alternative." David commented, with only a small amount of the green stuff remaining on his hands. 


	2. Collection 2: The search beginns

3  
  
"Nnngg." He moaned.  
  
A sweet feminine voice comforted him: "Shhhhh. It's all right. You're safe now." He opened his eyes, much to his surprise a young, attractive girl, not a day over 21, sitting beside him on a bed. He gazed in to her deep blue eyes and refreshed himself in them. Her smile, her eyes, and her long brown hair: all of them were soothing to the soul. He tried to reach out and touch the angel that had taken human form, but a large spike of pain in his chest told him that not moving would be a more pleasant alternative.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked despite the pain his very lungs caused him.  
  
"I'm Julie. I found you half dead and brought you here, this is my home." It wasn't a very big room he was in, maybe a guest bedroom. It was conventionally decorated with framed pictures, plants and flowers. The only light source at the moment was a small lamp that sat on a nightstand beside the bed. He tried to look down at the foot of the bed but the unbearable pain the jolted his neck advised him not to.  
  
"Why am I in so much pain?" he begged to know.  
  
"When I found you, you were bruised from head to toe. From the looks of it someone almost killed you. I stopped the major bleeding and bandaged what I could. Who would do such a thing?"  
  
"I." He paused for a few seconds. He realized that he hadn't the faintest idea. "I don't know. I can't remember anything."  
  
"Poor thing." Julie said, stroking his forehead. "I'll go make you some soup. I know it will make you feel better in no time." With those last few words she stood up and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.  
  
Back aboard the transport carrier of the 1st Airborne, Rob walked through the metal hallways that lead to the bridge. He was stopped in front of the large steel door by 2 of the ships crewmen.  
  
"Hello Robert." The left crewman said.  
  
"Don't call me that Wade." He replied.  
  
"What do you need from the bridge, Robert?"  
  
"Some sensor logs. And I said," Rob slammed his fist deep into the gut of the crewman. Wade clutched his violated chest and fell to the floor. "Don't call me Robert." Rob pushed the door panel and walked on to the bridge whilst whistling a happy tune. The captain sat in his chair, which occupied the center of the room. He was facing the large view screen at the front. To his right and left there were numerous terminals and workstations. Rob marched up to the captain's right side and stood at attention. Even though most guard and navel personnel as a rule don't get along, you must always respect the captain, he's the one who has the authorization to blow whatever he wishes out of airlocks, with no questions asked.  
  
"What can I do for you?" He asked in a plain voice, not taking his eyes of the screen.  
  
"I humbly request that crewman Wade Grace be reassigned to a different station, sir." Rob said as if he were back in basic, asking a drill sergeant if he had permission to evacuate the bladder, that kind of voice, only without the yelling.  
  
"That isn't the real reason you're here is it, corporal?"  
  
"No sir, but the infirmary would have more time to treat the real patients." The captain let a small chuckle slip from vocal cords and he turned his attention away from the bleakness of space and looked at Rob. "So, how can I help you corporal?"  
  
"Well, sir. If standard Imperial protocols were followed, then the ship's orbital camera was actively recording the combat area and the 20-mile surroundings during the mission."  
  
"Yes, the recording was made. Why do you need it?"  
  
"Although the mission was a success, sir. We, unfortunately, have a man missing. I would like to request permission to view the logs so we can plan a recovery OP, sir."  
  
"Very well, corporal." He pointed to one of his peons. "The ensign over there will assist you in acquiring the record logs."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
Thirty Minutes later, Rob was reporting to David with his findings in the company crew quarters. David was sitting at the desk in the middle of the room. Bunk beds occupied the space along the walls to either side. Numerous soldiers sat about the beds either sleeping or gambling with their newly earned money. The most popular of these betting games is known as "Bitch". Nobody knows why, except that that word is used heavily during game play. As Rob walked past the Bitch game he was reminded of the time when he lost horribly while playing against David several months ago. His wallet still feels empty.  
  
"Thinking of a rematch Rob?" David asked him, not even looking up from his sketch pad that he was drawing on.  
  
"Thanks, but no thanks. I'd hate to drain you of your salary again." Rob served with a side dish of sarcasm. Dave chuckled lightly and put down his pencil and looked up at Rob: "What news on Bryan?"  
  
"Well. I think these pictures will explain it better than any words I could find." Rob handed the camera pictures over to David. Dave took them and began shuffling through them from front to back. After he was done he repeated the process 2 more times. He then set down the pictures in order in front of him on the desk.  
  
"Let me see if my powers of imagination can reenact what these pictures are telling me." He pointed at the first one with his right index finger. "Here he is touching down 5 MILES from the drop zone." He then pointed at the second picture. "Here we see him running down a street being chased by the slum inhabitance. And there's a couple making out on the roof. But that's besides the point. Let's move on." He shifted his gaze to the next picture. "If I'm seeing this right, which I think I am, Bryan is detonating a fuel canister of some sort over a large crowd, most likely killing more than half of them."  
  
"That's what we saw too." Rob agreed.  
  
"We? Who's we?"  
  
"Well." Rob began. "There had to be a bridge crewman present when I was going over the pictures." Rob paused.  
  
"And?" Dave prodded him on.  
  
"And. hereportedittothecaptainandaninquisitorisonrouttoarrestbryan."  
  
"You wouldn't mind repeating that in slow motion would you?"  
  
"He reported it to the captain and an inquisitor is on rout to arrest Bryan." Rob said in a very quiet voice, hoping that the rest of the company wouldn't hear. He realized only a second later that the entire room was engulfed in silence and everyone was looking at him, shocked at the news.  
  
One thing you should know about Dave: He commonly evades swear word usage. And that makes it all the more shocking when he answered to the shocking news. David said: "Oh shit."  
  
Some explanation may be in order here. You see, with a ruling government spanning over countless galaxies (pretty big huh?) it is difficult to ensure that the citizenry remain loyal to their emperor, especially in account of all the external influences: the dark gods of the warp and alien races. So, the Imperium established the Inquisitoris, the inquisition. The inquisitors, powerful individuals with absolute authority, are sent to trouble spots where heresy is suspected and remedy the situation, often with death. That's why David and Rob are so concerned: most likely Bryan will be hunted down and executed.  
  
"What's his ETA?" David asked.  
  
"Give or take, 12 hours." Rob answered with a grim tone.  
  
"Alright. Alright. So, that gives us an hour to prep and launch a shuttle, 30 minutes till we hit the surface, 9 hours to find our wayward friend." Dave said just as Rob derailed his train of thought.  
  
"And what then? The Inquisitor is already convinced that he's guilty of 1st degree manslaughter, punishable by death as you and I know."  
  
"It's going to be your job to tell him otherwise."  
  
"What??" Rob exclaimed, totally stunned.  
  
"Yeah, you're going to stay here and talk some sense into the Inquisitor."  
  
"Oh, and I thought for a second that you wanted the impossible." Rob replied with a small seasoning of sarcasm.  
  
"Not at all. Think of it as a challenge."  
  
"Gotta love a challenge."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
4  
  
"There, that wasn't too bad, now was it?" Asked the long haired brunette. After he chocked down the last bite of soup (it hurt because of his broken ribs) he gave her an answer: "It was quite splendid.  
  
I'm glad you liked it." He said with a smile. She was a very caring young girl, with a heart of purest gold. The man looked her deep in the eyes and then suddenly pondered: "Do you live here all alone?"  
  
"Well," she started. "I live here with my husband. He was supposed to be back several hours ago but hasn't returned yet. I am really worried, he's never been gone this long before." She looked down in depression as she worryingly curled her long brown hair with her index finger. The man normally prided himself in his lack of empathy, but this time, for some reason, he was quite truly concerned for her. "I might be able to help." He offered, raising his eyebrow. "Tell me, where does he work?"  
  
"At Governor Satiec's (pronounced: sat - eek) manor. He said that he's a bodyguard." She answered. At the sound of 'Governor' and 'Bodyguard' the man felt icy shivers run up and down his spine.  
  
"What's wrong?" The girl asked curiously. "You seem to have gone all pale."  
  
"Oh, nothing. I'm just a little cold, that's all. Could you possibly bring me another blanket?"  
  
"Of course. I'll be right back." The Julie said and then exited the room, closing the door behind her. The man lay still on the bed, shivering. "Why am I so nervous?" He asked himself. "Governor Satiec. Bodyguard. Sounds so familiar."  
  
David spared no expense loading the shuttle: he had his 15 volunteers arm themselves with all sorts of explosive weapons such as grenade launchers, missile launchers, assault cannons mounted by tripods and also plenty of water, no sense in getting dehydrated. The soldiers were lined up in front of the shuttle for a final inspection. David walked up and down the line, double checking all their equipment, trying as hard as he could to keep Murphy's law at bay.  
  
"Sir?" Private Winslow asked. "Are we planning on leveling a city?"  
  
"No, Winslow." David answered. "Only as much as it takes for us to find our comrades." Dave had a tone of grim death in his voice. This mission was quite personal to him. "This is an unauthorized drop. You should all know that by now. We are going back to the capitol city to search for our missing men: Donald Hendrix and Bryan. Time is against us, so we have to move quickly. We are dropping in broad daylight. I hope that this way that any hostiles won't have the advantage of home turf. After locating our men we will rally at the LZ and await extraction. Alright, let's go!" All the paratroopers boarded their drop ship with Dave climbing on last. After he entered the hatch he flicked a switch. Hydraulics hissed as the ship's airlock sealed and pressurized. David then proceeded to the cockpit and sat down in the right seat.  
  
"Alright pilot. Take us out."  
  
"How sir? Without authorization how are we supposed to get the bay doors open?" The pilot asked confused.  
  
"Look to your 9 o'clock." David replied in a calm voice.  
  
The pilot gazed past his left shoulder and noticed a man, wearing a vacuum suit, standing next to the 'Bay door override' controls waving his arm as if he was having the most fun he had ever had.  
  
"Pilot, one quarter thrusters." Dave then brought a small hand-held radio to his mouth and spoke into it: "Hit it Rob."  
  
Rob, in his vacuum suit gave them the 'thumbs up' and pulled the lever that was next to him. 3 foot wide by ½ foot tall hatches all along the outer part of the rectangular landing bay doors blew outwards, and violently all the pressurized air in the hangar shot out into space. A second later the bay doors folded out and with maneuvering thrusters now at full the drop ship left the hangar bay and sailed out into the dark void on it's illegal mission. After they were safely away Rob pulled the lever back to it's normal position and punched a few keys on the computer terminal sitting next to it. This triggered the door's closing process. After the pressurization process was complete and atmosphere restored Rob then removed his helmet and walked over to one of the window portals.  
  
". The road to oblivion is paved with good intentions. May the emperor bring you all back safely." Rob whispered to the brave souls of those that were entering the planet's atmosphere. The sound of a door opening at the other side of the hangar suddenly caught Rob's attention and when he turned around he found himself on the receiving end of 5 lasguns, held by Naval Security Guards.  
  
"And now the hard part." He murmured to himself. 


End file.
